


Problem, Solution: Elope

by hangingalice



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Eloping, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Love, Masturbation, Mind Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Shameless Smut, Showers, Unresolved Sexual Tension, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-14 20:53:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4579656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangingalice/pseuds/hangingalice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara has been acting strange since Christmas, and the Doctor is going to find out why. </p><p>Set after Last Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Talk

**Author's Note:**

> This first part turned out very fluffy and much longer than I intended. Whoops! Following installments are sure to get smutty ;)

For the first time in his many lives the Doctor was completely, totally and utterly stumped. 

And that was refreshing, even though he didn’t always care for the feeling. He so loved being right.

But the thing about always being right, he had discovered, was the boredom. Being right all the time meant knowing lots of things, and knowing lots of things corresponded with being so terribly bored all the time. 

So to be faced with something new was a tad exciting, no matter how it irritated him. Besides, he knew he would eventually defeat this problem and move on to the next. It was what he did. He enjoyed a good challenge anyway.

Ok, so he only liked extremely difficult problems that he could solve with minimal frustration and effort on his part. Especially if there was an audience to observe his cleverness, and especially if that audience consisted of Clara.

And this was where this particular problem became particularly problematic. This was why the Doctor had been having such difficulty with this puzzle, why it was new, and why it was so tedious. 

The Doctor’s problem was so positively problematic because it was a Clara problem.

Clara, Clara, Clara. She had been the center of his thoughts for quite some time. In fact, she was more than that now; Clara was the center of his universe, the center of everything. Clara was the Doctor’s sun, and everything he did revolved around her. Even his many waking and few sleeping thoughts circled around her. They went round and round and always ended where they started, which was with Clara.

If this had been anything other than a Clara problem the Doctor would have barged in and forcibly solved this issue faster. He would’ve shouted and complained, maybe pushed and even prodded a little to speed the process up. He had so many other important things to attend to.

But this was a Clara problem, and so it was inexplicably more important than any of the problems he had ever encountered. And moreover, Clara wasn’t available to help him with this issue.

Well, he supposed she actually was there if he really needed her, but he hadn’t wanted to bother her. Or maybe he wasn’t quite ready to admit he needed help.

Although truthfully, he hadn’t wanted to recruit her this time because he was afraid to upset her. After a period of long reflection he fully realized that this new him — the gray-haired, slightly foul-mouth Scottish him — lacked social skills. Very terribly lacked social skills, and that could hurt Clara.

Bow-tie him hadn’t had this problem. Bow-tie picked up on social situations and acted accordingly so well. He supposed that was why everyone loved him then. He also supposed that had been why Clara reacted so negatively to his regeneration from Bow-tie to the Mr. Grumpy-Face he was now. At the time he had been hurt and hadn’t understood, but now he did. Not quite completely, but he had an idea, and that was enough.

And that was also why he was so hesitant to upset Clara now. He remembered too well the hurt and confusion on her face when he had transformed, even though that hadn’t been his fault. What he remembered even more vividly, as it had been etched onto both his hearts so deeply he doubted it would ever fade, was the look of hurt on her face during the moon incident.

He had to think long and hard about that one. He hadn’t understood for a very long while what he had done wrong. Had he done something wrong? He hadn’t thought so, but the look on Clara’s face told him differently. He had hurt Clara, her pain was definitely real, and he didn’t know how or why but he understood it was different from the regeneration thing. This time he had knowingly and willing done something, something he could have stopped but hadn’t. And that knowledge, when it hit him, made him hate himself more than he had ever thought possible.

He had somehow hurt Clara, and what was worse was he hadn’t known how to fix it, how to make it better, and he had hated himself even more for that. But then she came back.  


She came back! Oh, his hearts had never soared so high. He hadn’t thought he could be so happy again. 

But in addition to being very, very clever, he was also a bit of a masochist.

So he let her go again to be with Danny, because he loved her more than anything, and he had thought that best for her. He let her go and as he had held her in his arms that last time he was sure his hearts would never mend. But like she always did, Clara came back.

Clara had returned once more and the Doctor swore he wouldn’t let her go ever again, that he would protect her as the precious gem she was. They would never be parted, so long as that was what she wanted. 

And it seemed that was what Clara wanted. She hadn’t left the TARDIS since the Christmas incident, even after he voluntarily returned her several times to her flat. He hadn’t wanted her to go, no, but he thought that was what she wanted. He had thought wrong, apparently, for both times she disappeared into the depths of the TARDIS and by the time he found her, was fast asleep. 

He was beginning to think this was Clara’s way of telling him she was staying on board, and that made him extremely happy. He had secretly wanted that for so long.  


Clara. His Clara, all to himself.

He had always imagined having Clara on the TARDIS full-time, so to speak, would be glorious. And it was, yes, but there was something off. His social skills might still be under-developed but his Clara skills were pretty accurate, and he could tell something was bothering her. What exactly that was he didn’t know, and that was worrying.

Bow-tie would have known how to sort this out but Scottish him didn’t, and was too proud to ask for help. But action had to be taken, soon. He couldn’t endure Clara being sad anymore. He just wanted her to be thoroughly happy here, as happy as he was with this new arrangement. But if that was to be achieved he had to be very careful and very tactful, and he was rubbish at both those things this time around. 

So he had waited a long time and thought a lot about how to address this issue. He had gone over so many scenarios in his head but now that he was going to take action, couldn’t seem to remember any of them. So he was just going to dive right in, because Clara was wearing that sad smile again tonight.  


The one she had been wearing too much. The one he didn’t care for. 

Yes, he didn’t understand human emotions well anymore, but he did know Clara and knew she should be happy. He was sick of that sad smile, the smile she directed at him much of the time, and the look that accompanied it. He was tired of the little, sad sighs she breathed too often now. She was his Clara and he was her Doctor, and they were together on the TARDIS! Everyday should be a celebration, because the universe had brought them back together!

They were together again and Clara still wasn’t happy, which was a problem he didn’t know how to solve. He had tried almost everything. Almost, and tonight he was going to try the last thing he knew of. 

Tonight he was going to ask Clara for help. 

She had seemed particularly sad tonight. Why, he didn’t know, but he was going to find out. And as she sat across the console from him in the lounge the TARDIS had specially made for her with that sad smile on her face, the Doctor took one very deep breath, and joined her. 

“Clara?” He asked tentatively as she sat opposite her, voice tender as he could muster.

Clara looked up from her book. “Yes?” she inquired, a slightly puzzled look on her very round face.

“I was wondering if you could help with something.”

“Of course.” She put down the book she had been reading and untucked her legs from under herself. The sad smile disappeared and was replaced with a concerned school-teacher look. 

The Doctor felt what little confidence he had left pop and deflate in his chest like a balloon. “Er I was hoping,” he began to stutter, “ah, wondering was is like more it, if you could help me…” He trailed off and stared wide-eyed at the floor. 

“Yes, Doctor,” she smiled. “You’ve established you want help. But what exactly do you want help with?”

He swallowed thickly. “Erm ah, well it’s complicated you see-- very tedious and delicate.”

“Yep, I’m all ears. Go on!”

“Well, I have this friend you see, and I’m worried about her. Them! Them I mean,” he added, and inwardly kicked himself for sounding stupid. He could make mistakes in front of Clara every now and then, though. She wouldn’t think any less of him.

“So there’s more than one friend. As in friends?”

“Er, sure. In a manner of speaking I suppose. There have been multiples of them scattered throughout time before, so yes you could say that.”

Clara laughed brightly, and the sound was music to his ears. He loved bringing a smile to her face and laughter to her lips. “Ok then, what’s the problem with this very special friend of yours?”

“Well, I think she’s sad, or upset at least, but I’m not sure you see, because I’ve recently come to understand to that my social skills aren’t exactly what one would call ‘top notch.’”

“Oh? And how exactly did you come to understand your lack of social skills?”

“From watching you, Clara!” He interjected, a slight wave of irritation welling inside him now. “How else?”

Clara’s face transformed into a definite look of shock. Or what he thought was shock. “Oh! I didn’t know you paid that much attention.”

“I pay attention to everything, Clara. Nothing escapes me.”

“Just whether or not this friend of yours is upset, yes?”

“Yes,” he huffed. 

“What makes you think she’s upset?”

He was silent for a moment as he gathered his thoughts, and the proceeded. “She wears a sad smile a lot. And I know it’s a sad smile because she’s so usually unreservedly happy, so I know what that smile looks like. But this one, this one is different, and it’s sad.”

Clara began to frown. That was a frown, right? 

“Ok, any other things this friend is doing that makes you believe they’re sad?”

“She’s much more hesitant I think,” he continued, furrowing his brow in concentration. “Everything she does she does as if it’s the last time. As if everything she knows and loves is going to come to an abrupt end, or it just died. And she shouldn’t behave that way, because everything is just beginning!” His voice began to rise as he started gesturing wildly with his hands. 

“She shouldn’t act that way because everything is just beginning, just beginning to go her way! Our way! We are together and happy, and all is as it should be, and she should be just as unreservedly happy as she was before!”

Clara’s frown deepened, and then proceeded slowly. “Do you have any idea of why she behaves this way? Why she feels what you’ve just described?”

“I don’t know,” he started slowly. “I… “ He stuttered again, and then fell silent for a moment before continuing. “I think she sees something that she wants, and that something is nearly within her grasp, but she thinks she can’t quite have it. So I believe, now that I think about, she’s grieving for something she wants more than anything but feels she will never have. Like the most beautiful dream one could ever dream but can’t quite project from fantasy into reality.” He glanced upwards at her to study her reaction. His words had come out a bit more truthful and accurate than he had intended. 

Clara was silent for a long while, the frown deepening on her face. 

“This friend of yours, Doctor; do I know her?”

“You might.” He felt himself grow impatient. 

“I didn’t think you had any other friends besides me,” Clara retorted, a bit of mischief in her eye.

“I’m 2000 years old, Clara. I’m bound to know at least one other person than you.”

“Yeah, but I’m the only one you bother with,” she quipped back, almost smugly.

“That’s not true. I have loads of friends.”

“Yeah, sure.” She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with that smug smile on her face. 

“I do!” He insisted, his impatience growing. “But you’re the most important, obviously.”

“Damn right I am.”

“Yes ma’am,” he returned, a little smirk now spreading across his face. 

“So this friend—this friend that I know but don’t know, who is she?”

“But you do know her, Clara!” He yelled, his impatience and irritation growing. “She’s you!”

He felt the weight of his words soon as he dropped them, and they were heavy ones at that. They hit the floor with a huge, ominous thud.

Oops. That was something he should probably have said more carefully.

It took a minute for what he said to sink in. Clara’s face went from confused to shocked, to angry swiftly as a cloud covering the sun. 

“Excuse me!?” 

Well, he couldn’t take it back now. Might as well keep going. “She’s you, Clara! She’s you. Everything I’ve just described are things you’ve done!”

The look of anger on Clara’s face intensified. She sprang from her chair, fists balled at her sides. “You’re joking. No no no no you’re—I haven’t got a sad smile! I’m not grieving for something that I can’t have! That very idea is absurd, Doctor! Oh, you are very right about not having any social skills, because this, this is way off.” She circled around the lounge, ready to leave, but the Doctor blocked her exit. 

“True, but I know when something’s off with you Clara, and it’s been off for a very long time! I’ve waited to see if the situation would sort itself out, I’ve tried to make you happy and everything else, but nothing works! And I wanted to be tactful and delicate about this matter, but as we both know I’m not good at that and I tried just, with your help even and it still backfired, so just tell me what is wrong! If you tell me what is wrong, then I can fix it!” His tone turned from harsh to pleading as he moved closer, his eyes becoming wide and imploring as she backed away. 

“Please Clara, whatever it is that’s upsetting you, please just tell me. I’ll fix it. I’ll make it go away. It doesn’t matter if it’s something I’ve done or am doing, please just tell me and I’ll fix it—I can’t stand to have you unhappy again, not now, not after losing you several times and having you return, only to let you go again, because I promised myself I wouldn’t do that now, that I would keep you safe and happy and do only what you wanted, what was best for you.. Please, Clara!”

She stopped, stunned momentarily by the desperation in his voice. Did she really mean that much to him? She titled her head slightly as she blinked at him, sorting through all he just said. 

 

“Clara please,” he continued more tenderly than she had ever heard him. “Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me what’s keeping you from being as happy as you were before. Please tell me and I can fix it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, really I don’t.” She really wished she did. 

His impatience swelled again as he threw his hands in the air. “How can’t you! Ah, you humans and your complicated emotions, always getting in the way of things! Clara, please just help me out here. I’m trying to make you happy, I really am. I’m not good at it, but I’m trying.”

“I’m trying too Doctor, but I don’t know what you’re talking about, I really don’t!” She was getting frustrated now. He could be infuriating sometimes, big blue eyes aside. 

“You haven’t been the same since Christmas! You haven’t been back to your flat since then, or returned to your human life, and I don’t know if that has anything to do with it—but you aren’t yourself anymore! You’re not as bright, or happy, or fiery, I don’t know how to describe it, but you’re like a deflated version of yourself! And I don’t like it. I want the Clara I know back.” 

“I’m the same Clara as I always was!” She insisted. 

“No, you’re not.” There was a twinge of sadness in his voice. 

She sighed heavily and felt some of the anger seep from her chest. “Well, now that you mention it, I suppose I have been a bit depressed lately. It’s nothing you’ve done though,” she added quickly. “It’s just that, well… after Christmas I thought a lot… and yeah I haven’t been back to my flat, or my human life, my ‘normal’ life. I don’t see why I should go back to it.” 

“Why don’t you want to go back to your human life— your normal life?”

“Isn’t it obvious doctor?” She snapped. 

“Come again?”

“Normal life hasn’t exactly worked out for me, has it?”

“What about it hasn’t worked out well, Clara? You were doing well as a human.” He was genuinely confused. 

“No, I wasn’t! I wasn’t because I was constantly being pulled between two worlds, Doctor! Constantly back and forth between Earth and, and,” she stuttered, mouth flapping, searching for what to say, “life with you, Doctor life, and it was exhausting!” All the words just spewed out of her mouth, faster than she knew what she was saying. 

“I tried a normal life! I got a job, and you became entangled in it somehow. I had a boyfriend and you got in the middle of that as well, and now it doesn’t matter because he’s dead! Normal, human life isn’t working for me at all, Doctor, it hasn’t for a very long time! Everything I do, everything I build and create eventually blows up in my face, and all I’m left with then is you!”

“And I remember just as well as you what happened during Christmas, even though you probably are missing some things! Do you remember old Clara, doctor? DO YOU?”  


“Yes, I remember!” He shouted, not sure where all her anger was coming from. This was not what he had expected.

“Yeah, well I do too, and a whole lot better than you! And you know what I remember? I remember a normal life that didn’t turn out so well for her! An old lady dying alone—never married, no kids, nothing—just alone! That’s not the life I want. If that’s a normal life, I refuse to participate. I refuse. I don’t want it.” 

“You can’t just refuse to participate in life Clara, no matter if it’s a normal life or not—“

She abruptly cut him off, shouting over him. “But I already have! I have a life with you! Besides, whatever you think, I’m not normal, because normal is just another word for average, and in case it escapes you, I’m not average. I’m above average-- I’m exceptional! And I’m not downscaling myself anymore. I’m staying with you, end of discussion.” She stuck in index finger in face to prove her point, looking very much the school-teacher she was. Or had been. He wasn’t sure anymore.

“Then what’s the problem, Clara? You’ve been with me full time for a while now, so you have exactly what you want! So why are you sad then?”

“I haven’t ‘been’ with you doctor— I’ve been on board the TARDIS,” she snorted disgustedly and looked pointedly away. 

“Oh?” He cried indignantly. “And what’s so bad about being with me?”

“Nothing!” She yelled even louder, “Because we’re not together! We work together perfectly, are perfectly compatible, but we will never be together!” Tears sprung into her eyes.  


“Oh God oh God,” she babbled and began to sob, hands on her face as she sank down to the floor.

The Doctor’s hearts pounded in his chest as he rushed to her side, and for an instant he feared he had done something unfixable. He had never seen her break down like this before—he had seen scared, angry and upset, but nothing like this. He never meant to make her cry. 

“Clara?” He knelt down beside her, hands awkwardly flapping about her, wanting to comfort her but unsure of how. “What’s the matter? Is this what’s been bothering you?”  


“Apparently it has!” She snapped through sobs.

It took a moment for what she admitted to sink into his brain. This is definitely not what he expected.

He placed a feather-light hand on her shoulder. ”And when you say together…”

“I mean together together, Doctor! Isn’t it obvious? Don’t you remember what I said in that dream, what you said about Danny? None measuring up to him, except for one? An impossible man?”

“Yes, but that was a dream Clara—“

“You know just as well as anyone that all dreams are based on reality, and that dream was attempted to make reality as real as possible, so there was unfounded truth to that statement! But it doesn’t matter, because I know it can’t happen, because everything’s always so complicated with you isn’t it? All these rules, and regeneration, and living forever, and feeling too much, there’s no room for me in your life other than just a traveling partner is there?! So here I’m stuck with the only other person in all of time and space that I want to have the all normal bits of life with, AND I CAN’T HAVE THEM! And I’ll never have them!” She gave a final hoarse shout, and then burst into a new round of tears. 

He stared at her, mouth agape, as this outed truth sank into his drain. She continued to weep, sobs racking her whole delicate frame. 

He used his other hand to begin stroking her hair. It was so soft and shiny. ” Sssussh, Clara, everything’s ok… sssh ssshhh, it’s ok.”

“No! Everything is not ok!” She snapped, jerking her head up from her hands to glare at him. Her round amber eyes met his, and for a moment her sobs stopped. The world seemed to stand still, and all the revelations of what had been said slid into place for both them. 

“Well, I guess we’ve found out what’s wrong now,” she huffed, drying her eyes. 

“Yes, I believe we have.” 

There was another moment of silence, and in that quiet both could nearly hear the other’s thoughts sift through the atmosphere. 

“Is t-that,” he stuttered, “is that what you what? Us, together?” It never occurred to him Clara would ever want that. 

Did that make him happy? Him and Clara together, together—forever? He hadn’t even dared to dream up something like that. The very thought seemed too good. 

“I…” she stammered, just as tongue-tied as him. “I think so.” She gave a little breathy laugh and then continued. “It’s funny because I didn’t realize I wanted it until now. I mean, I had sorta thought about it before, but I also thought everything was fine. I didn’t realize I was acting differently.” She blushed and looked down. 

“I definitely didn’t think this was what was bothering you,” he chuckled. 

“Oh?” She laughed wearily. “What did you think it was?”

“I don’t know. An alien specter trapped in your bedroom keeping you awake all night with terrible night-visions?” He offered, small smile playing on his lips. 

She returned the smile. “Always with the aliens.”

“Yes, always with the aliens.”

She smiled again at that—the sad smile again. He wanted that sad smile gone, forever; wanted to put an end to it more than any of the many evils he had seen through all times and space. 

“Clara,” he started slowly, “if we do that, will you be happy? Will that fix this—“he gestured at her.

“Fix what?”

“That sad smile.”

“It might.”

They were both quiet for a time, momentarily very interested in the TARDIS’s interior decorating. 

“Would you like that? Us, together together?” Clara asked.

The Doctor ran a hand roughly through his hair, suddenly shy and unsure. “Maybe. I don’t know. I do know having you stay on the TARDIS with me has made me happy. I used to think about it a lot,” He finally looked at her and smiled, embarrassed. “I wanted nothing more than to be with Clara all the time for a long time. “

“Yeah,” she breathed, and they both fell silent again. 

“So Doctor, do you understand what you’re asking then? What I’m actually asking of you?” Clara scrutinized his face. 

“I think so,” he muttered, chewing on a long finger.

“Explain it to me then.”

“You want all normal bits of life you would’ve had with Danny, only you want those bits with me and on the TARDIS?” 

“Yes.” 

“I don’t understand though. I thought you loved Danny. I thought you wanted a normal earth life.”

“I thought I did too, but it didn’t work well for me did it? And as for Danny, I did love him, but never the way he deserved. And it wouldn’t have mattered because I would’ve always gone off with you.”

She laughed a little then. “You’re really an idiot aren’t you Doctor?”

“What?” He asked, feelings slightly stung. 

“All that time you were jealous of Danny, weren’t you?”

“Was not!”

“Yes you were.” Her face became triumphant again. “You were so jealous.”

He grumbled something in return. Oh, only Clara could call him out on such things. Only Clara could embarrass him.

“You were, you were jealous, and the best part was you didn’t realize Danny was supposed to be a distraction from you, did you?” 

“Excuse me?” That was definitely news to him. 

“Danny was a way for me to try and have a life outside of you. After the regeneration thing, you made it clear you and I were just… I dunno know— traveling partners. So I tried to distract myself from you, to move on, with Danny. You were jealous of your own distraction! You pushed me away, and then you got angry when I tried to move on.” Her face morphed into anger again.

“I didn’t try to push you away Clara! I just—well, I don’t know what I was thinking.” He frowned. Had he really pushed her away that time? He hadn’t thought so.  


“Yeah, I’m starting to think that happens a lot with you.”

“More than I’d ever admit,” he snorted and they both chuckled.

“So,” she asked tentatively after a period of uncomfortable silence, “can we have that Doctor? A normal life between the two of us, together and on the TARDIS?”  


“I don’t see why not. There will be altercations to this normal life you speak of, however. There are many things that will be different, and I hope you’re prepared for all of them Clara, because—“

She threw her hands in the air. “Shut-up Doctor! I have a very good idea of what having a ‘normal’ life with you will be like. I’m prepared. Traveling with you for this long has given me that. And don’t—“she went on, cutting him off with a grave look as he seemed ready to give a serious, long-winded speech. “And don’t go on about me ruining my life, or not knowing the consequences. I know full well what could happen, and all I have to say to you is that I’m perfectly capable of ruining my own life, thank you very much.”

He considered it for a moment, and then seemed satisfied. “Ok then.”

“Ok then,” she echoed back. 

“So, where do we begin from here?” He asked, genuinely unsure. He had never been so unsure in his life, but that was what Clara did to him. Turned his whole universe upside down, and then became the center of a whole new world. 

“I have no idea.”

“Me neither.”

She put a hand on his. “Well, that’s ok, because we’re both very clever. We will figure it out together.”

“Yes, together.” He glanced down at her hand on his. He liked that—the way it looked…the way it felt…

 

They both smiled at each. He stood and then helped her to her feet. She immediately threw her arms around his neck, and remained there for a time. He was shocked at first, unsure of what to do, but eventually wrapped his arms around her. Oh, that felt so good. She smelled nice; was so warm and alive in his arms. He didn’t want to let go. 

Clara was the first to break away. “I’m glad we had this talk, Doctor.”

“Me too, Clara.”

She smiled at him, then planted a quick kiss on his cheek, happier than he had seen her for a while. It’s that unreserved happiness he had longed to see on her face. And that sad smile is gone from her now, all traces vanished. The old bit of spark is back in her eyes. 

She gave a shy smile and with a quick goodnight, headed to the bathroom for her evening shower. 

And as he watched her walk away, he became suddenly aware he didn’t quite know what he got himself into. But that was ok, in fact in was great, because he set out to do what he originally wanted, and that was to fix his Clara problem. 

Yes, he had fixed the Clara problem, and even though the solution was a bit new and scary to him it made Clara unmeasurably happy. And if it made Clara happy, it had to be something worth doing.


	2. A Hard Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor's bedroom has been moved next to the shower tonight, and he can't help where his thoughts go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the smut begins!

The Doctor woke with a start, sweat beading his forehead and both hearts hammering in his chest.

When had he fallen asleep? 

He knew he hadn’t been out long because he could still hear the shower running from his room. And given that Clara liked to normally take hour long showers, that meant he must have just had a cat-nap. 

But how had he drifted off? He remembered after their little conversation (because that was what he was calling it) Clara had left for her shower, and he had wandered off to do what he thought was something important. He could not recollect meandering into his room, let alone finding his bed and lying down.

And why was his room suddenly so close to the shower, and why was every sound from it amplified? He was sure he could hear Clara’s feet patter on the tiles. 

The TARDIS was definitely up to something tonight. Well, time to get up and sort it out. 

But as soon as the Doctor attempted rising from his bed he discovered something else had also risen, and with a gasp he fell back onto his bed.

Had that really happened?!

He moved his hips, then slid his hand down along the top of the covers, down to where there was a very obvious tent.

Yes, it seemed that it had, in fact, actually happened.

The Doctor frowned, perplexed at this new revelation. What had called for this? 

He reviewed the night’s occurrences. 

 

Yes, so he and Clara had somehow decided they were to be more than what they already were. Yes, he had touched her shoulder and stroked her nice, shiny hair. And yes, she had hugged him and she had smelled so good, and was so warm and sweet; and yes, she had kissed him again on the cheek and her smooth lips against his skin had sent a thrill he hadn’t felt for a long time through him.

But he had enough physical contact with her before and nothing quite like this had happened. He couldn’t recall his body reacting in his manner since before he regenerated.

Ah, but he had let his guard down tonight, hadn’t he? All those telepathic walls he had built to block out the nasty world that obtrusively badgered this newer body, this new old body that was so much more sensitive and aware than the last. 

He had let them down and then had a very intimate conversation with Clara. He had her psychic energy all over his own.

The Doctor gulped at that thought. Clara. All over him. Clara and he— intimate. 

 

His breathing intensified and his hand made its way back down the sheets. Oh yes, that was a very large tent down there. He felt it through the covers and gasped with pleasure and surprise. 

Bigger than the last one, bigger than he could remember! He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. What would Clara think? Would she even want this new body?

Ah Clara. Yes, his thoughts always slipped back to her. He could hear the shower running, her feet pattering on the floor as she moved about, her soft singing to herself… He could picture in his mind vividly the water on her skin, hair wet and sticking to her neck, her curves glistening in the shower as if she were a glowing goddess—because he had met goddess, and they did glow—and he could picture her running the soap over herself, up her arms and down her torso to—

He immediately snapped back to reality. Oops. Apparently he could psychically project himself better this regeneration as well. Interesting. 

But he couldn’t get that picture out of his head. Clara, all wet and dripping…

The Doctor’s hand somehow had found its way under the covers and was latched around his throbbing cock. Funny, he didn’t remember doing that either.

Ah, it felt so good though! And he could hear Clara—she was there, just around the corner—and suddenly his hand was exploring the length of his new member. It was a good size and girth; he was quite pleased with it. He hoped Clara would be too.

Up and down it went along the length, circling around the head and squeezing softly on the tip where there was just a bit of moisture already. The Doctor moaned and his other hand went down around his balls. 

His speed and grip intensified on his member. Oh, Clara! Clara Clara, if only she were here—if only he was brave enough to join her in the shower—if only—

And then pleasure erupted from the deep part of his abdomen, up through his balls and shot out his cock. His hips jerked and bucked as he came, waves of pleasure cascading through him like nothing he had ever felt before. He groaned as he rode out the last of his orgasm, a soft Clara escaping his lips. 

 

The door to the bathroom opened, closed, and Clara’s footsteps retreated down the hall to her room, the scent of lilacs following her. 

The Doctor buried his face in his pillow, thoroughly satisfied and slightly ashamed. 

Oh Clara, he thought. I hope one day we can do this together. I hope someday I am brave enough to do for you what you do for me. 

And with that thought, the Doctor drifted for the first time in a long time, to a very deep and peaceful sleep.


	3. Miss Oswald's Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor needs a lesson in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to write this one more from Clara's viewpoint, just for giggles. Enjoy!

“Doctor,” she sighed exasperatedly, “are you sure this is what you want?” 

“Whatever do you mean, Clara?” He asked, pulling away from her where they had been entangled on the couch, big-blue eyes wide and owl-like as he attempted to understand.

“Us! Are you sure you want this?” Clara gestured between him and herself, and when he met her gaze with a blank stare continued. “I mean us, together together! As we discussed before. You said you wanted this. WE decided we wanted this. A relationship that was more than what we had before. All the normal bits of life on the TARDIS, just the two of us.”

He seemed slightly hurt. “Yes, Clara! Of course this is what I want!”

 

Despite his reassurance, Clara wasn’t sure. She was beginning to think maybe she had persuaded him into something he didn’t really want with her round, brown, teary eyes all those nights ago. She seemed to remember that tears had that effect on men, timelord or not.

Yes, so he had been making progress. He had finally gotten over flinching every time she hugged him, and even reciprocated the snuggling. Oh yes, he greatly enjoyed snuggling to Clara’s surprise and delight. He had even begun to initiate that on his own. 

He didn’t react much to quick kisses on the cheek. She had pecked him on the lips a few times, only for him to glance quickly away and become very interested in the console’s coordinates. He never returned that particular gesture to her, nor seemed interested in pursuing it any further. And the few times he did go in for a hug, or to put an arm around her on the sofa, there were timelord hands and elbows flying all over the place. On one occasion, a particularly unruly elbow knocked her quite hard in the head, and the next thing she remembered was waking up in the sick-bay. The Doctor assured her nothing serious had happened, but she didn’t quite believe him. 

They seemed to have a good time on dates. Or at least that was what Clara thought they were—she wasn’t sure what the Doctor viewed them as now. Maybe he didn’t quite understand human courting anymore, or never did. Perhaps he thought they were simply having a good time together, just like when he would pick her up on Wednesdays and they’d fly away together.

Now that she thought about that, those pretty much were dates. Just more exciting dates anyway… Robbing banks, assisting Robin Hood, saving the moon… Same concept at the core, just executed differently. So maybe he didn’t understand how having dinner or watching a movie together was any different. 

Ah, poor Danny. The poor guy had never stood a chance against the Doctor. Even then, all those months ago, her heart had completely belonged to the grey-haired, rude Scottish timelord sitting next to her now. She couldn’t help it—the man was endearing in a strange way. And just as her mother always said, you can’t help who you fall in love with.

No, you couldn’t help who you fell in love with. Clara hadn’t understood then, but certainly did now. 

 

“Well, it doesn’t seem like you want this,” Clara stated flatly, glancing over to the library. The TARDIS had wisely placed the newly constructed sitting-room next to it and she couldn’t have been happier with that decision. All those books sitting there, lined up in neat rows, made her calm, gave her a sense of peace and order in an otherwise chaotic timelord’s dwelling.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, brow furrowing. Oh, how she loved when he did that. His eyebrows were so expressive. His face in general was expressive, she supposed. He couldn’t hide much of what he felt at all, and she was beginning to expect he felt much more than he let on. 

“I know it’s difficult going from friends to more than friends, but it doesn’t seem like you’re interested in that. You haven’t returned any of my gestures—initiated any of them on your own, back to me. I’m always the one to start these things—physical things,” she added when he met her with another confused stare. 

“Ah, yes well…” The Doctor suddenly became very busy fiddling with the trimming along the couch’s seat cushion. “I’m not so good at that anymore.”

“Yes, I’ve realized that. And that’s ok but—“

“Is that what you want, Clara?” He interjected, finally meeting her eyes with a steady gaze. “A more physical relationship? I can do that Clara, I just need some time. I’ll get there eventually.”

Clara smiled fondly at him. No man had ever been so willing to please her, not even Danny. 

“Yes, I would like that, but first I need to know YOU want THIS. I don’t want to persuade you into something you’re not sure of.”

“No, I’m sure! I do want this, us!” He gestured back and forth between the two of them, long hands flying immeasurably fast. “I just don’t know how to go about it,” he admitted and looked down again.

“And the thing is, Clara, this body is different.” He began fidgeting with the hem of his jacket, again refusing to meet her eye. “This body, although rougher in appearance and manner, is so much more sensitive than the last. It feels so much more and much more strongly. Every sensation is ten times stronger than it should be. I’m more telepathic, empathic, and psychic—whatever humans would call it, that’s what it is. Physical contact is more difficult for me now because the amount of information I receive from it is greater than I’m accustomed to.” 

Clara was silent for a moment as she contemplated his confession. Suddenly his behavior was making much more sense.

“And what you’re forgetting, Clara, is that I was alone for nearly 900 years on Trenzalore. Oh sure, I had friends in the beginning, but of course they all kept dying on me. And they died, and died and died. So eventually I just quit seeking company. I retreated a bit too much into myself, I think. I became isolated and alone. I forgot a bit how to act like a human, or even a timelord for that matter. Which might account for my behavior this regeneration.” He fumbled with his coat hem, still not looking at her.

She remained silent as she worked over his words and studied his expression, hoping to gather what was going on in that complex timelord brain.

“Well, that helps everything make a bit more sense,” Clara murmured in her gentlest school-teacher voice. “Thank you for sharing that. That makes things a bit easier for me to understand.” She had discerned that in tough situations such as this, it was best for her to assume a teacher’s demeanor. The caring, somewhat detached attitude helped him discuss tedious things he couldn’t otherwise talk about—normally things with feelings. He could do terrifying aliens, spaceships, lost forever in the universe, but mention feelings and he slammed shut. Not much different than the other men she had known. 

He smiled shyly at her for a moment, and then began chewing on a fingernail. 

Clara sighed at his reaction. She was going to have to do everything, wasn’t she? Well, that wasn’t so bad. She was naturally very bossy, so his passiveness in this area wasn’t so bad. She could be dominant, and right now this dominant woman was getting a bit tired of his reluctance to further their relationship. She needed more of him—all of him, and this skittering around each other was exhausting. And he needed all of her as well. 

Clara smiled lightly at him and moved closer, her thigh touching his. He tensed a bit at that and froze, finger still in his mouth. She laughed quietly at him, and taking his hand in hers, removed his hand from his face to clasp it in both hers.

“I think, Doctor, that the real problem is you’ve forgotten how to give and receive love. You just need to learn to love again.” She rested her head on his shoulder. 

He angled his face just a fraction towards her, inhaling the scent of her hair. She could feel his chest rise and fall as his breathing increased and his hearts begin to hammer. Clara had no doubt that right now, just as he said earlier, he was telepathically picking up on her energy. 

“Come on Doctor, turn around.” She shifted so she was facing him properly. “Turn around and let me massage your back.”

“Oh that’s really not necessary. I built a robot ages ago that does that for me. It’s locked up somewhere in the—“

Clara laughed. “Shut-up! That’s not what this is about.”

“Oh! Right.” He immediately spun in his seat so his back was to her. 

She placed her hands on his broad shoulders and began to rub, only to find all his layers prevented her from giving a proper massage.

“I’m just going to take some of these layers off, ok? I can’t get a good grip.”

He nodded as she reached around and unbuttoned his jacket. She pushed it off his shoulders and threw it on the floor. She sighed when she discovered he had two ragged t-shirts on under that. How many layers did the man need? 

“I’m going to take these other two layers off as well, yeah?” As her hands went down and she grabbed the hems of his worn t-shirts, Clara was fairly certain she detected a hitch in the Doctor’s breathing. Was he holding his breath? She smiled, and hoped he was.

Up and off the shirts came, leaving the Doctor in nothing but his sleeveless undershirt and his hair even more disheveled. She could now clearly see the deep rise and fall of his chest, and his pulse racing. Good.

She placed both hands on his shoulders and began to rub. Oh, he had beautiful skin. Even in this body’s advanced age, his skin was still so smooth and flawless. She traced his shoulder-tops with her fingertips, dragging them along his neck and up to his hair. She placed both palms on either side of his head and flexed her fingers, burying them deep within his curls. He sighed and leaned back into her. He smelled nice—very nice, like citrus and the winter wind. She began to nuzzle his neck, and then lightly placed her lips on the elegant curve of his neck. He tasted nice as well. 

“Clara, what are—“

“Sush, Doctor,” she whispered into his ear, exhaling slowly and softly as she wrapped her arms around him. “This is just a lesson on how to receive love. Just a refresher. Everything’s fine. You’re here with me, perfectly safe. Everyone’s safe here, no reason at all to worry. Just soak it all up, just like a sponge. Be a love sponge.”

He exhaled deeply and leaned even more into her. She continued to rub his neck, running her hands up and down that graceful bit of his anatomy. She ran her hands along his shoulders, digging her thumbs into the tense muscles there, before she proceeded downwards. Flattening both her palms, she placed each on either side of shoulder blades and made circular movements. The Doctor sighed and sunk farther into her touch.

Trying to remember as much as she could from her own massage experiences, Clara began to rub her hands up and down the length of his back. His thin undershirt rode upwards with her motions, revealing the small of his back, the spot just above where his hips began. She resisted the urge to put her lips there, and continued making circular motions with both her thumbs on his shoulder blades. She could do this all night. Maybe she would. 

Down, down her hands went, thumbs making circular motions the whole way. She loved the feel of his flesh under her fingertips, the way he breathed contently and leaned into her. No man had ever responded to her touch this way before, and none had had ever caused such a wave of affection and love to swell in her chest like this. Oh God. She had been so in love with him this whole time and never knew.

She rested her head on him and moved even closer, so her front pressed against his back. She wrapped her arms around him and began massaging his chest, palms flat against his skin, moving still in circular motions. She could feel just a sparse layer of hair there, leading down. She traced it with a fingertip on the outside of his shirt going down, down, down. Her hands landed on his belt, and she felt him tense.

“Sssh, sssh. You’re fine. Just be a love sponge, ok?” 

She began to massage his hips, his lovely thin hips that sometimes drove her mad with lust. She followed the V of his lower stomach downwards until she found his thighs, and then ran her hands up and down the length of them. Oh, they were such marvelous thighs. So long and lean, but strong looking. She would love to be knelt between them…

Somehow her hands crept inwards on his thighs and began to move upwards. He stiffened again, and she responded by resting her head in the crook of his neck and kissed him.

It’s all right, she thought. You’re fine. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Safe. Protected. Loved. Let me love you.

He responded by exhaling shakily, and then relaxed just a bit. 

Her hands moved upwards once again, undid his belt buckle, unsnapped his trousers and pulled down the zipper. The sound sent a thrill through her all the way to her core, where she felt heat building. It grew damp between her legs. She pushed down his trousers, slid her hand underneath the waistband of his boxers and wrapped her hands around his cock. He hissed sharply and held his breath. Clara smiled.

Almost greedily, she pulled his member free from the confinement of his clothing and placed both hands around it. It was so hard and hot against her hand—oh, how she wished she could see it! How she wanted to see the look on his face, press herself against him and have all of him.

And then he was turning to face her, long legs swiveling across the couch, and his eyes were hungry with lust and need as he crushed himself against her, his mouth hot and wet on hers as be babbled something unintelligible—it sounded like Clara, but she wasn’t sure, but he was too out of control, legs and arms flying everywhere, and it was too much and he couldn’t seem to control where all his limbs were going—

“Doctor!” She exclaimed with a laugh, pushing herself away from him. He stared dumbfounded at her, mouth gaping confusedly, trying to form words but unable to do so. 

“I’ve got this,” she explained, and put a hand on his chest, pushing him back on the couch. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Tonight is about you.” She stood as he laid back and pushed his knees apart. She knelt down between them, and his eyes widened.

Clara shot him a devilish grin and then eyed his cock. Oh, was it gorgeous. Surrounded by a patch of curly grey pubic hair, it was just as flawless and smooth as the rest of him. She wrapped a fist around his base, and dragged her hand down the length of it; just the right length and thickness. He was lovely. She kissed the inside of his thigh and thought that over and over. 

You are lovely. You are beautiful. Lovely, lovely lovely lovely. 

He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes, sinking even more into the sofa. She kissed her way up his thigh until her nose met the tip of his cock. There was the slightest bit of moisture there and she breathed gently on it, resulting in a soft grunt from the Doctor. She proceeded by flicking her tongue across his tip, licking up his wetness. He tasted sweet and bitter, which was fitting she thought.

Clara engulfed her whole mouth around his tip, and the Doctor shuddered with pleasure. She ran her tongue around his rim, reveling in his taste, the sounds he made, the way his body moved under her touch. She sucked and moved her tongue all around the tip until he whimpered, and then took all of him in her mouth.

His hips bucked and his eyes snapped open, meeting her own. She smiled best she could with his cock in her mouth, and then tightened her grip around his base while snaking her other hand down around his balls. He was warm and wet and sweet in her mouth.

The Doctor began to babble incoherently—Clara Clara Clara—until her name was no longer a word but simply a sound humming in his throat. His hips started to move uncontrollably, bucking and grinding upwards, fucking himself with her mouth. It wouldn’t be long now—he had been nearly undone since her first touch.

She sucked harder, took him farther into her mouth until his cock reached the back of her throat. The dampness and need between her legs was nearly unbearable, but she focused solely on him. He needed this—needed to forget himself, needed to stop thinking and just exist in the present moment. He needed to be alive and fully awake in the present moment. 

“Clara!” He interjected, suddenly able to form a word, and it was more a warning than anything. She increased her grip on him and sucked harder.

And suddenly his hips were thrusting sporadically and he erupted in her mouth, a great wave of his seed spurting inside her and hitting the back of her throat. She continued to suck as he rode out the last of his pleasure, hips beginning to slow and thighs shaking with aftershock as he throatily whispered her name. 

 

All tension seeped from him, and he collapsed completely into the couch, chest heaving and sweat drying on his forehead. Clara smiled, licked her lips and tucked him back into his trousers. Then she climbed up next to him, and snuggled into the crook of his arm as she buried in face into his heaving chest, his undershirt clinging with sweat to his body. 

The Doctor dragged a hand slowly across his face and wearily looked at her, a smile playing upon his lips.

“Excellent teaching, Miss Oswald. But I think I need to revisit this particular lesson a couple more times before I’ve thoroughly grasped the concept.”

Clara smiled back at him and winked. “I’d be glad to tutor you after school hours.”

And with that, the Doctor and Clara drifted to sleep, entangled in each other’s arms for the first time.


	4. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor takes Clara out on a date. He's not too sure what to do when they get home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter started to get long, so I broke it in two. Next part will be posted soon.

The Doctor just wanted to make Clara happy. 

And after their first night in each other's arms, he resolved to make more of an effort to do just that. So he had found a book stashed within the depths of the TARDIS's library on courting humans— 'The Gentlemen's Guide To Wooing Women' it was called, written 1900 something in Earth years— and read the entire thing front to back in a matter of hours. He memorized all that he could; even took down notes and scribbled in hasty handwriting particular things he wanted to do for his Clara. 

So he had taken her out tonight. Or today— it was hard to tell when they drifted through time and space. But he had found a nice, expensive restaurant on a planet specializing in luxury. The restaurant itself was set during the American Roaring Twenties, and Clara had been thrilled with his decision. 

'Fabulous time period,' he had told her— great food, great parties, and great fun. He had rambled on and on about his Earth adventures during that era, shooting Clara his widest smile and making sure to fix her with his most intense 'smoldering' stare, as recommended by the guide. 

Clara had listened with rapt attention, round brown eyes gazing adoringly up at him. She had lavished praise not only on his choice in dining, but planet as well. She had clung to his arm all night, even more so after several glasses of red wine, and paid the utmost attention to him. Given, she had stopped for several moments to flirt with the ever-so-handsome American waiter, with his shiny white teeth, but after a particular funny joke and well-timed smoldering eyes, he successfully won back Clara's full attention.

Take that, you handsome American chump. Your shiny teeth are no match for my timelord brain and Scottish charm. 

He had been sure to wear his best, form-fitting suit and fluffed his hair to the max. Ladies love a well-dressed man with great hair, the guide had explained. It shows attention to detail, pride and the ability to care for oneself, which in a woman's mind equates to strength. He didn't quite understand how the two coincided but after studying himself for a long time in his bedroom-room mirror, decided he looked all those things. And the Doctor found he liked that thought— him being strong enough to look after Clara. Oh yes, he liked that idea very much— caring for Clara; making Clara feel all the things she made him feel.

The very notion at that time had been a bit overwhelming on his body, and he could sense it preparing for something a bit naughty deep in his core. So he inhaled deeply, fluffed his hair one more time, and whisked Clara away. The whole night couldn't have gone more smoothly.

Until they got back to the TARDIS that was. 

The guide had vaguely gone over what was to be done after taking an Earth woman out. It said it depended on her mood and the woman as an individual, but generally bedroom things happened after a 'date.' He didn't quite understand how a date was any different from a day out with a friend or why bedroom things happened after, but he knew it would please Clara, so he was willing to try. 

Anyways, those bedroom things were part of the being together together Clara talked about— all the 'normal' bits of life she wanted with him. And if that's what Clara wanted from him, he was going to give it to her. After all, she was his Clara and he was her Doctor. 

But the bedroom things were harder than he imagined, because after their 'date' Clara had headed for her routine shower. Although as he reflected upon it, Clara had seemed different tonight as she headed for the bathroom. She had lazily let her jacket fall from her shoulders and land on the floor without caring. She had smiled ever so widely at him, and her eyes had lingered longer than normal on him. 

'I'm heading to shower,' she had announced, voice louder than needed. 'All by myself... Heading to the very big, empty shower all by myself. All alone.' She had emphasized her message with pouty lips.

The Doctor had nodded in acknowledgement and watched her walk away. He had attributed her odd behavior to the large amount of wine she had that night, but looking back at it now realized she had probably been hinting at bedroom things— only bedroom things with him and in the shower.

His pulse quickened at that. Bedroom things with Clara only in the shower— it was almost more than his over-sensitive body could endure. And thinking back now, he believed he had felt something in the air as she said that— something telepathically. It was like an... Invitation, or a dare. Or maybe a plea. And there might have been a slight wave of anticipation as she sauntered away, followed by the fleeting expectation of being let down. 

Well, that wasn't going to happen! He was not going to disappoint Clara. 

But deciding that was much easier than following through, the Doctor had discovered as he hovered outside the bathroom door, hearts beating much too quickly and anxiety mounting in his chest.

How was he to do this? He wanted to just barge in, take control and woo Clara even more— be the man of her dreams, but didn't know how. And then there was the issue of what to do with his clothes: was he really going to strip in front of Clara? He had barely even seen himself nude; had barely acclimated to the feel of air on this new skin. This new skin that was wrinkled and sprinkled with grey hair. 

He felt his confidence shrink at that thought. He was no longer the handsome, dashing timelord he once was. But then he remembered the other night when Clara and he had fallen asleep together in each other's arms. He remembered the love she had projected his way, how she had told him over and over telepathically how much she cared for him and how beautiful he was. He remembered how safe and loved he had felt as she pressed into his side, and suddenly made up his mind. 

He was not going to fail Clara now. He had resolved to make her happy and that was exactly what he was going to do. So the Doctor put his hand on the shower door, turned the knob and entered before he could change his mind. 

The Doctor was met with a wave of hot, wet air. He felt his skin instantly become damp and his well-fluffed hair defluff. The entire room smelled of lilacs and it calmed him. It was a strong but soothing scent — just like Clara. 

Oh Clara! She must have been expecting him tonight, or the TARDIS had anticipated a plus one, for the bathroom was more expansive than he had seen it. Massive Roman columns towered above him, elegant and robust in their height. Huge jets of water cascaded from the walls in all directions, kept in check by a thick wall of glass. There was a changing area where Clara's jeweled dress had been discarded, accompanied by a basket of various wines, of which one bottle had been opened and drank halfway. 

The Doctor swallowed thickly and walked over, picking up Clara's dress. Pressing it against his face he inhaled deeply and was met with Clara's sent: a sweet mixture of more lilacs, lavender, and the aromas of the restaurant. He felt the anxiety dissolve from his chest.

Oh Clara. My Clara. 

From behind him he heard her feet patter on the wet floor and froze, refusing to turn around and look. He could still back out, so long as he didn't see anything and she didn't know he was there. And she was too preoccupied with showering things to detect his presence yet. 

But he could feel her over there, feel her energy— how content she was in the warm water and how happy tonight had made her. She was thinking about him and his big-blue eyes he realized, and smiled at that revelation. Her heart swelled with love and affection when she thought of him.

He was out of his depths here, but he had to continue. It was his turn to reciprocate the physical aspect of their relationship. And most importantly he had to make Clara happy.

The Doctor grabbed the nearest bottle of unopened wine, silently uncorked it as he had learned on a planet that had long since disappeared, and downed the whole thing. He suppressed a burp and then glanced at the label, recognizing it as a particular type of liquor that affected him quite strongly. Excellent. A little liquid courage never hurt during moments like this.

Summoning what confidence hadn't deserted him, the Doctor spun around on unsteady feet and was met with the most beautiful scene he had ever witnessed in all his years of roaming the universe.

Clara. Clara in all her naked splendor— Clara in all her wet, dripping and naked splendor, back to him.

Droplets clung to her glistening skin and hair stuck to her neck, emphasizing its delicious curve. Her back was slender and little lines of muscles rippled up and down its length as she ran her hands across her head. Her buttocks were round and full, supported by very voluptuous thighs—smooth, shapely thighs that connected to beautiful calves; calves that also showed lines of muscle from many days of running up and down corridors on distant planets. 

He had had the sudden urge to thrust himself up between those glorious buttocks, bury deep inside of Clara, and slam into her until she screamed his name.

His cock leapt at that idea, but remembering how he sometimes got out of control during their physical interactions, inhaled deeply and steadied himself. 

He fumbled with his shirt buttons, unsure if he should disrobe right now or just walk into the shower before he could run away. Or do something incredibly stupid.

Maybe he should just ask Clara for help again. 

Yes, that seemed like a good solution.

He cleared his throat, but Clara didn't seem to notice. Growing slightly impatient and bold with the wine's aid, he cleared his throat louder.

Clara ceased her primping and turned around, eyes scanning the bathroom, but still missing him. 

"Clara?" His voice wavered more than he intended. 

Dammit. Why he couldn't be the man she deserved?

She didn't seem to mind, however, for upon spying him in the corner her face broke into a delighted grin, and he felt happiness flood through her. 

"I was wondering if there was room for one more in there with you."

Clara nearly glowed with joy. "Yes, of course there is," she answered, voice tittering. 

He started immediately for the door, completely forgetting he was fully clothed in his haste.

"Doctor!" She laughed, eyes crinkling. Oh, how he loved being the source of her laughter. "Your clothes— take them off."

He stopped on the spot. "Oh! Right."

Self-consciously he slumped out of his suit coat and began to fumble with the buttons on his shirt. He still wasn't used to this.

"Take your time," Clara promoted from the confinement of the shower, in all her nude glory. She must have seen his nervousness.

"One button at a time, just like that. Yes, now the undershirt. Good. Now your shoes and socks. Excellent. Now your trousers and pants. There you go—all set now."

He breathed heavily from the safety of the changing area as the last veil of clothing fell from him, suddenly terribly aware of just how naked he really was— very naked and in front of Clara. 

His cock started to stir and he was slightly ashamed, though he didn't know why. That was part of furthering their relationship, right? 

Right. They were more than friends now so he didn't have to suppress his feelings for her. She didn't want that— that was what this whole thing was about. 

"Doctor, come join me in the shower." 

"Yes, of course." He hastened to her, and upon entering the shower suddenly found himself bombarded with sensation.

There was Clara— all her happiness, joy and excitement at his arrival, and then there was the warm water spewing over him, and all the smells: lilac and lavender, and soap and Clara, Clara Clara Clara.

And she was touching him then, taking him all in with her eyes and he could feel her need and lust, how much she wanted him, how much she loved him and how beautiful she found him, and all the things racing through her mind that she wanted to do to him, and his cock became immeasurably hard much too fast and he didn't know what to do or what he wanted to do— all these sensations were overwhelming and he was going to upset Clara or pass out— 

"C-Clara," he stammered. "P-please, it's all too much. Too much. Just—" He broke off, unable to form a coherent thought any longer. 

"Too much information?" She asked, and immediately stepped away.

"Yes," he exhaled, finally able to think and breathe. "

Gods, he sounded weak, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was going to make Clara happy, no matter what.

"What do you need from me, Doctor?"

Oh Clara. Here she was, making this easy for him— saying what he couldn't. She was the most wonderful creation in all the universe.

"Just— just be steady, if that makes sense. And— and why don't you just tell me what you want. Just tell me what to do. That's one less thing for my brain to deal with." 

She smiled at him. "I can do that, Doctor. It will be my pleasure."


	5. Dirty Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night continues, and it gets dirty.

Clara took his hand and led him to a bench that jutted out of the wall. She sat down, grabbed a bottle of shower gel and patted the spot next to her, indicating for him to sit, but the motion went unseen by the Doctor. 

Oh Gods, what beauty. She had round, full breasts with darkened nipples; an elegant, lean waistline and shapely hips. Not too thin or thick, she looked graceful but strong and every bit the goddess she really was. She had curves— oh did she have curves. He wanted to trace them all with his hands and then maybe his lips. And when he was done with that, maybe he’d sink his tongue into her tantalizing sex. It looked absolutely delicious sitting there between her legs, hidden by a trim patch of pubic hair but he could find it, especially if finding it meant Clara throwing back her head and crying his name as her thighs trembled— 

“Doctor,” Clara sighed from the bench with a grin, bringing him back to his sense. “Sit down, please.”

He sat as asked and when she handed him the gel, responded by applying a generous amount to her back and shoulders (he didn’t trust himself to be around her front yet). After slathering enough on the Doctor massaged Clara’s shoulders and back as she had for him the other night but with considerable more skill, and before long had reduced her to nothing more than a soapy puddle dozing in his arms. 

And then they just talked. Well, Clara did most the talking— he did most the listening, which was new, but good. He liked the sound of Clara’s voice, especially her sleepy voice. She told him so many things, everything from her university days to how she wanted to be a mermaid as a child, because the ocean was like another world— a better, more peaceful world. But then she had discovered books and those were even better, because they transformed you into a completely different person while taking you to another planet. So she then had set her heart on being a writer, but wasn’t very good at it. She decided to teach instead, so she could share her love of books and reading with another generation. 

He had placed his cheek against hers and ran his fingers through her hair, smiling as she spoke, and hanging on every word. Then they both fell silent for a time and became lost in the comfort of each other’s arms as they listened to the water falling onto the stone floor. He could have stayed like that forever. But of course, and as he knew too well, nothing lasted forever.

Clara’s energy began to shift in the stillness and she became restless. Perhaps the wine had worn off, or perhaps she caught her second wind— it didn’t matter. What mattered was she then decided to take his hands, which had been clasped about her middle in a hug, and placed each on a breast.

Not a word was spoken but her thought was broadcast loud and clear: Rub.

And so that’s exactly what the Doctor did. Cupping each breast in a hand, he gently began to massage her breasts as he had the rest of her, and they filled his palms just the way he had imagined they would. Oh yes— they were every bit as firm and plump and he hoped. 

Clara gave a soft grunt and twisted in his lap, causing his cock to come back to life. He took a nipple between two of his fingers and rolled until it became hard and distended beneath his touch. She arched her back, pressed harder against him, and so he proceeded by strengthening his grip. He then alternated between hard and soft hand movements as he began to nibble on her neck. 

His cock became immeasurably hard again, so hard he didn’t know how it didn’t explode right then and there. But he continued anyway, planting kisses all along the length of Clara’s neck and jaw while he massaged her breasts. His lust was growing much too quickly and much too strongly again; he wanted all of her— needed all of her. There was no way he could keep this up for long. 

Clara snuck a hand around the back of his head and pressed it against her own. She then grabbed one of his hands and removing it from her breast, slid it down her torso, down her belly and hips, and planted it between her legs, so his fingertips just rested on her trimmed pubic hair. 

The Doctor’s mind went blank with excitement and he ceased all movement— rubbing her breast as well as breathing. He couldn’t think couldn’t move couldn’t swallow couldn’t do anything, because this is what he had wanted for so long but hadn’t known, and he had denied himself this for so long and now it was finally here and he couldn’t deiced what he wanted more and— 

And then Clara had taken his hand with hers and parted her folds. She spread her legs just a fraction and his fingers sank even more into her. Oh Gods. She was so soft and moist. His cock wanted to bury inside her, between her legs, and thrust and pump until there was no universe or space or time, just the two of them existing outside of existence.

She moved his hand up and down her slit, writhing under his touch. Gods she was so slick with need already. Up and down his hand went, led by hers, over her clit and then back to her cunt. She moved against him and the motion tripled his need as the back of her hips just brushed against him. 

Clara took his fingers and moved them round in circles against her clit. Her hips began to rock upwards on their own accord, and she let out just the slightest of groans— little held breaths released much too quickly in excitement. She then took his fingers and slipped them inside her, and oh, there she was at last— Clara, his Clara, all around him, and he was inside her and he finally had more of her and she was wonderful; so warm and gentle and loving!

In and out she moved his fingers with her own— just a couple to begin with, and then much more than the Doctor thought possible. And her hips were grinding against him, and he was nearly undone himself, but she kept going, moving his fingers in and out of her, up and down her slit and she was leaning into him so hard he had to brace against the wall to keep from sliding off the bench. And up up up she went, he could feel it, and her moans increased and she went rigid in his arms and ceased to move, except for sporadic tremors in her hips, and he vigorously thrust in and out of her cunt, fucking her with his fingers, until she cried out several times and came at last, and he came with her— shooting his sticky seed onto her back as they both came back down, breathing heavily and slumping into the shower wall. 

Clara turned and grinned widely at him soon as she caught her breath, brown eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed. She looked at his limp cock and then touched a hand to her back where he had come on her, almost triumphantly. He rinsed the remains of his ecstasy from her flawless skin and planted a kiss on her temple.

"Clara Oswald—” he started, but was cut off.

"Did you come with me? You did, didn't you?" Her grin refused to fade from her face.

"Yes, I did Clara—”

"But how is that possible? I barely touched you. There was barely enough stimulation there to cause anything—”

"Well Clara, the thing about being telepathic is that one can be brought to climax by another individual's thoughts, feelings, or emotions. So in this case I was tapped into your energy and my body felt what you felt." He held her tight as he rested his chin on her shoulder. 

"So I can send thoughts and images, or feelings your way?"

"Yes, as you have been doing."

"So I can mind fuck you, can't I? I mean, I can make you come with nothing but thoughts." Her grin somehow grew even larger across her face. 

"Technically yes, but—”

Clara spun in her seat, clasped the Doctor's face in her hands and stuck her tongue so far down his throat he nearly choked. Then in one swift motion she pried her lips away, rested her forehead against his, and the Doctor was bombarded with sensation once more.

She sent every single dirty thought and fantasy she had ever had about him into his mind. She showed him how sexy she found him— how she loved his tight trousers and how they showed off just enough of his cock; of how she would often steal glances even when they were simply friends— of how she loved the sight of his bum as he ran away, his long thighs, his elegant hands; how dazzling blue his eyes were, the curve of his jaw, the sound of his voice, and the curls in his grey hair. Oh, how she loved his long hair. 

And then she sent him images that caused his already exhausted cock to spring to immediate action once more. She projected the image of her straddling him— the feeling of her cunt as she impaled herself on him, how warm and wet and lovely that would be, how she would engulf him and his cock would fill her just right, hit all those sweet spots, how she would rock back and forth and up and down on him, how her breasts would bounce— and then suddenly he was bending her over the console, lifting her skirt up and tearing her knickers off, thrusting up between her legs roughly and fucking her until she screamed— until they both screamed and were left with bruises all over their skin from the force of their lovemaking. 

Then she was touching herself, thinking of him, bringing herself off with skilled fingers wishing they were his, and then his face was buried between her legs and his tongue was in her cunt and then on her clit as he dug several long fingers inside her, and she grabbed her hair to keep his head there, and he licked her as if his life depended on it. 

And then finally he was on top of her, cock deep into her cunt and he was thrusting in and out as she writhed under him— her long legs locked around him and her nails digging into her back, and she felt so good and warm and loving all around him, and there was nothing else he'd rather do or anywhere else he would rather be than right there, fully awake and in that moment as he took his Clara to the utmost heights of pleasure, and then she cried out and froze beneath him, shuddering, and he fucked her even harder, making sure she screamed with every thrust of his cock— 

And then suddenly he was back in the shower, on the floor somehow, with Clara knelt by his side, their foreheads still touching, and his actual hips were thrusting up into the air, and his real cock was very much erect as he fucked nothing, and with an inaudible whisper and touch on the chest from Clara, his cock exploded as he cried out, back arching and hips trembling as he emptied himself, his pleasure landing all over his belly in a big, sticky puddle. 

He fell still and silent as he gasped on the floor, feeling more drained and empty than he could recall, but in a pleasant way. Clara pecked him on the lips, brushed his hair from his face and washed the come from his stomach. She sat down next to him and studied him, glowing and smiling her triumph smile at him. 

"Clara Oswald," he growled from the ground. "You are the Universe's finest creation."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I tried to come up with some new creative ways for both these space dorks to further their relationship in this chapter. If anyone else has any other ideas, I'd love to hear them! Message me on here or tumblr. 
> 
> Also, if anyone wants a piece of writing reviewed for editing or anything else, whether it's a fic or essay-- doesn't matter, message me as well! I had a job once writing PR articles and I really enjoy editing things. It's kinda crazy how happy editing makes me, so don't hesitate to ask! Cheers!


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